tripping over the cobblestones
Fiction ought to be fun to read, but I find much of it to be rather difficult. I must be clear: I'm not denigrating the challenges and complexities of a really good novel, or demanding that the author spell out all the implications. Richard Adams's The Girl in a Swing is a better novel because the author hides what's really going on beneath a thick layer of implication. If it were plainly stated, the book would actually be rather stupid; as it is, I found it evocative.
That's not what I find difficult. I mean a writing style that, especially in openings, doesn't set the scene properly. The reader is uncertain who's there and where they are and what's physically going on, though it's not meant to be cloudy.
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vgqn just wrote about a good example of this. I commented there, but I want to pass it on here, and revise my reworking of the text. This is the opening of a police procedural, with supernatural elements, called 9Tail Fox by Jon Courtenay Grimwood:vgqn was what was going on with the gun. "Didn't he just take the gun away from her and set it on the table?" particleguy figured it out: "lift the gun" means "lift the gun off the table." Well, fine. I'm sure it was clear in the author's mind, but at least one intelligent reader found it baffling.
It's not a big deal, but it is like walking down the street and tripping over a cobblestone; it halts you up, it makes the experience of reading less enjoyable. And if you keep tripping over cobblestones, you might choose not to walk down that street any more.
For me, this passage is full of cobblestones. Why is Natalie referred to as "the child" before her name is given in the same sentence? It'd be clearer that they're not two different people if it were the other way around. What's with this weirdly disembodied reference to "thin arms"? If they're her arms, why not say so?
Up to the end of the fourth paragraph, I was picturing them in a police station. The sudden reference to the dining room table was jarring. What's that doing in a police station? Oh, they're in a house. Reset my mental image; go back and re-read the previous paragraphs.
Not a big deal, as I said, but a lot of little things. Too many little things. It wouldn't take a huge expository lump to fix this. I'm no fiction writer, but maybe something like this:
Donald Westlake is my favorite crime novelist because he always lets you know exactly where you are, who's there, and enough of what's going on to keep you oriented, and he does it so entertainingly. In his hands, the dropping in of expository information is a high art.
That's not what I find difficult. I mean a writing style that, especially in openings, doesn't set the scene properly. The reader is uncertain who's there and where they are and what's physically going on, though it's not meant to be cloudy.
vgqn just wrote about a good example of this. I commented there, but I want to pass it on here, and revise my reworking of the text. This is the opening of a police procedural, with supernatural elements, called 9Tail Fox by Jon Courtenay Grimwood:"Okay," said Bobby, "Show me how you shot him."What stumped
He handed his .44 Magnum to the child and watched thin arms tremble as Natalie Persikov tried to keep the gun steady.
"Like this," Natalie said.
Taking the Colt from the girl, Sergeant Bobby Zha placed it on a table, next to one of the many photographs in her grandfather's dining room. "Now show me."
The eleven-year-old struggled to lift the gun. When she finally did, it was using both hands and its muzzle wavered between the door and a high sash window...
vgqn was what was going on with the gun. "Didn't he just take the gun away from her and set it on the table?" particleguy figured it out: "lift the gun" means "lift the gun off the table." Well, fine. I'm sure it was clear in the author's mind, but at least one intelligent reader found it baffling.It's not a big deal, but it is like walking down the street and tripping over a cobblestone; it halts you up, it makes the experience of reading less enjoyable. And if you keep tripping over cobblestones, you might choose not to walk down that street any more.
For me, this passage is full of cobblestones. Why is Natalie referred to as "the child" before her name is given in the same sentence? It'd be clearer that they're not two different people if it were the other way around. What's with this weirdly disembodied reference to "thin arms"? If they're her arms, why not say so?
Up to the end of the fourth paragraph, I was picturing them in a police station. The sudden reference to the dining room table was jarring. What's that doing in a police station? Oh, they're in a house. Reset my mental image; go back and re-read the previous paragraphs.
Not a big deal, as I said, but a lot of little things. Too many little things. It wouldn't take a huge expository lump to fix this. I'm no fiction writer, but maybe something like this:
Sergeant Bobby Zha looked down at Natalie Persikov as the eleven-year-old girl stood, looking lost and alone, by the table in her grandfather's dining room. "Okay," he said, "Show me how you shot him."Maybe a little overloaded in the first sentence, but do you see what I mean? Now it's clearer who they are, where they are, and what they're doing. The scene is set first. And that's even without giving the useful information of whom she shot. (Her grandfather? A burglar? Both of the characters presumably know what they're discussing, why is the reader being kept in the dark?)
He handed his Colt .44 Magnum to the child and watched her thin arms tremble as she tried to keep the gun steady.
"Like this," she said.
He took the revolver back from the girl and placed it on the table next to one of the many photographs that decorated the room. "No," he said. "Show me how you did it."
She struggled to lift the gun from the table. When she finally did, she needed both hands to hold it. The muzzle wavered between the door and a high sash window...
Donald Westlake is my favorite crime novelist because he always lets you know exactly where you are, who's there, and enough of what's going on to keep you oriented, and he does it so entertainingly. In his hands, the dropping in of expository information is a high art.